


there's a trapdoor hidden in my heart

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anal Sex, Face-Fucking, First Meetings, Humor, KakaZabu Week 2018, M/M, Ninja Politics, One Night Stands, Rough Sex, Secret Identity, Zabuza should probably not be allowed near children, briefly, but here we are, much less allowed to lead a genin team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Zabuza's first mission out of the village with his genin team takes them right through hostile territory. What a surprise that it goes south.





	there's a trapdoor hidden in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> For KakaZabu Week 2018 over on Uzushi0! I intended it to be around 4k. Clearly _that_ worked out well.

Passing through Fire Country always makes Zabuza twitchy.

It might be the quiet, the way every village has the appearance of a battle zone, silent and weary and watchful. It could be the emptiness of the roads, not even bandits to haunt most passes like in every other country. It could also just be the ever-present sense of danger that winds Zabuza’s muscles tight, dragging his nerves so clone to the surface that he feels constantly raw with it. Fire Country isn't a place to drop one’s guard, and he can never manage to forget that.

Of course, some people get the luxury of not having to care about it nearly as much.

“Cold rations _again_?” Suigetsu whines, picking at his bar with a look of exaggerated distaste. “Come _on_ , Zabuza-sensei, can't we at least have a fire?”

“No,” Zabuza says flatly, and shifts just enough against the tree he’s leaning on that he can scan the shadows beyond their tiny campsite. Camping right off the road is a risk, but Zabuza sure as hell isn't going wandering in a dark Fire Country forest at night with his team, looking for a better place. “We’ll find an inn once we get closer to River Country. Until then, stop complaining.”

Suigetsu pulls a face, sarcastically mouthing Zabuza’s words again, but he at least does it silently, so Zabuza can ignore him. Huffing, Suigetsu throws himself down on the grass, crossing his arms behind his head and kicking up one foot obnoxiously close to his teammate’s face as he drops one leg over the other.

With a roll of his eyes, Kimimaro delicately but pointedly pushes Suigetsu’s foot down and away from him. “The quickest route to Suna is through Ame right now, isn't it?” he asks.

Genin, Zabuza reminds himself, aren’t supposed to know the details of politics and the shifts in the tides between the villages. It still makes something in him itch, because not knowing is _sloppy_ of them, but Mei's already yelled at him for expecting too much of his team right off the bat.

It’s not like he even _wanted_ them, Zabuza thinks, exasperated. _She’s_ the one who stuck him with them and wouldn’t let him fail them after they _technically_ passed his test.

“Yahiko's got Ame’s borders closed up tighter than a whore’s legs when the money runs out,” he says, belatedly remembers that these are _twelve-year-olds_ , and winces. Mei's going to fucking gut him, damn it. She’s got _ideas_ about how different their training should be from what hers and Zabuza’s was. “Fuck. I said tighter than a miser’s wallet, got it? No repeating that.”

“Of course, Zabuza-sensei,” Haku says, because he’s the only one here who doesn’t make Zabuza regret being born. Well. Kimimaro is usually fine, but Suigetsu is a headache and a half even on his very best days.

Zabuza contains a sigh, rubbing a hand over his hair. Taking a genin team was a mistake. Not that he had a _choice_ in the matter, because his Mizukage is a hag, but still. _Still_. They’re rebuilding the Bloody Mist, stripping away all the things that originally shaped them, and it’s very much a work in process. Mei wanted tangible proof of that, wanted a yardstick of how far they’ve come, and since Zabuza is her favorite jounin—favorite to _torture_ , is pretty much all that means, Zabuza thinks—he got stuck with the brats. Keep them genin for a while, she’d told him. No seduction missions, nothing hard, nothing _bad_. Zabuza on his best behavior, three kids given _time_ to grow into the hitai-ate they're wearing, a bright future for Kiri wrapped up in this new generation that’s scarred by the past but not broken by it.

It’s the only reason Zabuza gave in. The only reason he took leave from his duties as one of the Seven Swordsmen and even agreed to test them. He remembers a hundred other children dead at his hands, and the silence that fell in the arena afterwards. Remembers clawing his way up off the streets and into power through sheer, dogged determination, the certainty that he’d never go back and never give in and make sure, make _absolutely sure_ that the Sandaime couldn’t make any more fucking policies.

Mei was the how. Mei was the drive and passion and planning, and she’d called Zabuza into her office and touched his arm and smiled, warm and small and sad, and said _the new class graduates today_. And Zabuza had just—

Well. Maybe he wanted the same proof she did, somewhere deep down.

“Ame’s closed to everyone but Ame nin right now,” he says on a sigh, and casts another glance up and down the empty road. “And Iwa's so ready to start another war that just sticking our noses across the border would be enough to set them off. Kumo too. Sailing around Tea Country takes fucking weeks even if the weather’s good. Fastest route is right across Fire Country and into River Country.”

“It’s not fastest if we get caught by Konoha and _killed_ ,” is Suigetsu’s verdict.

“Fastest doesn’t mean best,” Kimimaro murmurs, and inclines his head to Zabuza. “Thank you, sensei.”

Hearing them call him that is still fucking _weird_ , Zabuza thinks, hiding his grimace. It’s—whatever. Kisame seems to get a kick out of it, and he’s pretty sure Ameyuri hasn’t stopped laughing since she saw the roster change.

“Long for a first mission out of the village,” he says, not quite an apology. “The Mizukage needs to make contact with the new Kazekage, though, with the Chuunin Exams coming up.”

“Hah!” Suigetsu sits bolt upright, shoving a fist into the air like a victory sign. “I knew you were going to—”

“Not you three,” Zabuza says flatly. “You keep tripping over that sword, Kimimaro almost gutted you accidentally on our last D-rank, and if I never have to spend another afternoon thawing out my feet, it’ll be too fucking soon.”

“Sorry, Zabuza-sensei,” Haku mutters, shamefaced, and ducks his head.

“I agree,” Kimimaro says, faintly sheepish. “We’re not ready for the Chuunin Exams.”

“ _Che_. Speak for yourselves, losers,” Suigetsu scoffs, but Zabuza notices that he’s very carefully not meeting anyone’s gaze as he flops back down into the grass. There's a pause, and then he heaves a dramatic sigh. “Fuck. At least Fire Country’s pretty.”

“Watch your mouth,” Zabuza says automatically, mostly because he’s been saying it to himself for a month’s worth of D-ranks. Suigetsu has a point, though; it’s nice to see the stars once in a while, and Kiri usually has too much mist and rain. In Fire Country every night so far has been clear and crisp, the stars almost bright enough to see by above them. It’s not enough to make up for the constant certainty that they’re about to be jumped from above, but it’s pretty.

“Whatever,” Suigetsu says grumpily, but when Zabuza raises a pointed brow at him he flushes. “Did Mangetsu tell you to say that?” he huffs.

“If you want to be a Swordsman, you have to at least _act_ respectful,” Zabuza tells him, sidestepping the question, because he’s pretty sure if he complained about Suigetsu to his older brother even once, Mangetsu would burst into tears. Apparently Suigetsu’s time at the Academy was…interesting. For him, if not his teachers and his brother.

“I _do_ ,” Suigetsu says, and it’s one of his rare flashes of complete, sober honesty. “I'm going to be a Swordsman just like Mangetsu.”

Zabuza stares at him for a long moment, and…Mei dismantled the caste system. That was one of her first actions as Mizukage. It’s a hell of a lot harder to dismantle old prejudices, though, and Zabuza knows that better than anyone. He was the first Swordsman to come from the lowest caste, and it still grates, the memories of what it took to make it. Suigetsu, though—Suigetsu has the foundation. He can build on what Zabuza created, and Mangetsu improved on.

No one ever thought Zabuza was anything but a monster, though. Suigetsu at least has that going for him.

“Keep practicing your blocks, then,” Zabuza says, and if his throat is a little tight he can blame it on the cold.

“We should try more team maneuvers,” Kimimaro says quietly, dusting crumbs off his hands. He’s smiling a little, though, watching Suigetsu for a moment before he turns to unroll his bedding.

Haku makes a sound of agreement, tugging at the sleeves of his uniform. “I think I can keep my ice contained enough not to touch anyone else,” he says, “as long as I stay back. I know it’s—”

“Fine,” Zabuza puts in. “You’re distance. Pretty balanced team that way.”

Haku nods, accepting that easily, and Zabuza is unendingly glad that he’s relatively steady. Crazy kekkei genkai, but that’s probably to be expected—Mei likes him, after all—and it doesn’t have quite the immediacy of the Hōzuki abilities. Haku's also pretty soft-spoken, for all he can get a little…intense.

“Would you like me to take the first watch, Zabuza-sensei?” he asks, and when Zabuza arches a brow at him he smiles. “I'm not tired yet.”

A lie, Zabuza judges. They’ve been running most of the way, interspersed with enough walking to keep the genin from collapsing, but it’s a tough pace. Still, Zabuza needs at least a little sleep, and this part of the night should be safe enough. It’s not dark enough for an ambush, and no one’s passed by since they set up camp.

“All right,” he agrees. “That means one of you takes first watch tomorrow,” he warns the other two boys. Suigetsu groans and pulls his blanket up over his face, while Kimimaro murmurs an agreement that turns into a choking cough, and Zabuza swallows another sigh. He was fucking _insane_ to take this team on. Off his spiral. Fucked in the head. Mei must have drugged him to get him to agree.

“Take your medicine,” he tells Kimimaro, and reaches over to fish the spare pill bottle he’s taken to carrying out of his bag. He chucks it at the boy, who catches it with a grimace but obediently shakes out a large pill.

“Orochimaru’s pills taste terrible,” he says, “and they make me dizzy.”

“Good thing you’ll be sleeping and won’t notice,” Zabuza says dryly. “Coughing up blood on your enemies might make most of them panic, but some of them will just use the opening to stab you. Take the medicine.”

“Yes, Zabuza-sensei,” Kimimaro says, sounding less than thrilled, but he uncaps his water and swallows it down, and Zabuza grunts in satisfaction. He settles himself back against the tree, watching closely for a moment, but—if Orochimaru was poisoning Kimimaro’s medicine the boy wouldn’t be getting better. Always dangerous, trusting a caged snake, but Mei's willing to do it, and she’s convinced that Orochimaru is more alarmed at the thought of being shipped back to Konoha than he is at his near-confinement in Kiri.

That, Zabuza reflects, probably says a hell of a lot about Konoha, beyond just the fact that it’s the most unstable of the villages. And, of course, Zabuza’s dragging his brand new team right through Konoha's territory, because Zabuza knows the route best and Mei can't spare anyone else. This should be a B-rank at the least, but given the tensions with Kumo and Iwa, Mei's consolidating power, while also trying not to look like she is. That leaves a genin team on a mission a chuunin squad should be doing, but at least Zabuza’s made this run several times. The Kazekage is in the same position they are, stranded on the far side of a chaotic village with too much power, too many enemies between the sparse bits of support.

Rubbing a hand over his hair, Zabuza presses his thumb to the engraving on his sideways hitai-ate, then blows out a breath and takes one more look over the camp. Suigetsu is drifting off, and Kimimaro is getting comfortable. Haku is trying to pick the tree with the best vantage point, frowning up at the branches. It’s fine. There's no one on the road, no one lurking in wait. Zabuza closes his eyes, forces himself to breathe in and out without straining his ears for any approach.

He keeps his hand tight around Kubikiribōchō’s hilt even as he drops into a light and fitful sleep.

 

 

There aren’t too many villages close to the Ame border, and those that still exist are lean and wary, careful of any stranger but especially cautious of shinobi. Zabuza doesn’t bother with henge—his team doesn’t have the reserves to keep them up for long stretches, and they need to resupply and get some sort of hot food and a solid night’s sleep here, since it’s the last village before the long run through the borderlands to River Country. Hiding hitai-ate and the more recognizable clan markings is easy enough, though, and Kimimaro submits to wearing Haku's concealer and headscarf without complaint.

The one thing Zabuza refuses to hide is his sword. Kubikiribōchō stays strapped across his back, covered by his cloak but ready to be drawn. No one’s going to look at him and think he’s a civilian, regardless, so he may as well carry it openly.

“ _Basic_ food,” he reminds his team at the edge of the village, pressing ryō into Haku's hand. Haku's the oldest, after all. Not that Zabuza would be giving Suigetsu the money even if he were born _years_ ahead of Haku. “A few spare water bottles, too. We’re going to need them in the desert.”

“Yes, Zabuza-sensei,” Kimimaro says dutifully. “You want two rooms at the inn?”

“Yeah.” Zabuza casts an eye over the three of them, then tells Suigetsu, “Keep your sword loose and your eyes up. You three are sharing a room, but I want you on guard.”

“Sure, Zabuza-sensei,” Suigetsu says, grinning. Then he remembers he’s not supposed to be showing his filed teeth and hastily flattens his lips together.

Zabuza groans. “Get the hell out of my sight,” he tells them. “We leave early tomorrow. If you’re not waiting in the lobby at dawn I'm leaving you here.”

Suigetsu wastes no time turning to bolt, and manages to grab Kimimaro as he goes, dragging the bigger boy with him. Haku laughs, hiding it behind his sleeve as he follows, and Zabuza keeps his gaze on them until they disappear into a quiet restaurant at the far end of the street.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, shaking his head and turning away. This whole mission is a trial, and largely because he’s got the genin team he never actually wanted in tow. Mei is a _witch_ , dumping this on him, and she had to know that there’s nothing in Zabuza that can let Haku, Suigetsu, and Kimimaro slip out of his team untrained now that he has them. It’s professional pride, or maybe just pigheadedness.

That doesn’t change the fact that he needs a drink right now.

Not enough to get _drunk_ , not on a mission; Zabuza can't, anyway, with the trick Mei showed him for balancing chakra to eliminate alcohol in the bloodstream. But if there are other shinobi around, he’s going to bet they’ll be wanting to end the day with a drink as well, and bars are generally a good place to at least scope out the territory, even if there aren’t any helpfully talkative drunks around.

Tugging his cloak up around his shoulders to ward off the bite of the air this close to Ame, Zabuza casts a glance over the surrounding streets. Dark and shadowed with the approaching evening, a few people hurrying to their destination, and it makes Zabuza pick up his pace a little, walk like he knows exactly where he’s going and is in a hurry to get there. It’s about attitude, mostly, passing unseen; even Zabuza, who doesn’t exactly blend in, can slip under observant eyes when he has to. That’s the trick to silent killing; not just chakra-laced mist and flashy knife tricks, but more psychological things. Eyes elsewhere, a distracted expression. No intent to do harm written into his body language, regardless of how naturally it comes to him.

Murder is an art form, for shinobi, and Zabuza is one of their world’s greatest artists. He has been since he was nine years old. Killing and everything that comes with it—that’s easy.

Keeping his team alive has proven to be a hell of a lot harder.

They’ll be fine, Zabuza tells himself again. Despite how they sometimes act, they’re smart, and all of them are skilled. Zabuza’s beaten the fact that they need to work together into their heads, and with any luck it will stick. Or at least not immediately leak out.

Turning off the street, Zabuza picks the closest place that looks vaguely like a bar and slips in through the door, letting it fall softly shut behind him. It _is_ a bar, sparsely populated, with a tired-looking woman behind the counter and a handful of occupied tables. There's one figure at the bar, but it’s at a good angle to hear the conversation in the rest of the room, so Zabuza heads there, settling onto one of the stools.

The other man, leaning against the counter, turns to look, pauses, and then flashes him a smile. He’s almost Zabuza’s height, with shaggy brown hair and purple markings over his eyes, a tan scarf over a voluminous dark jacket. Zabuza tips his head in return, sweeping a covert look to check for weapons, but if he’s carrying them they're completely hidden under the coat. Clever, if he’s a ninja, and Zabuza can't afford to believe that he’s not.

“Evening,” the man says politely, smile unwavering. “Has it started raining yet?”

“Not quite yet,” Zabuza tells him, and then glances at the barkeep as she approaches. “Whatever’s high-proof and cheap. Three glasses.”

“Sure, one minute.” She bobs her head, then heads for the corner of the room, where voices are starting to rise. Zabuza glances over, but it looks like an argument about a cart instead of anything about shinobi, so he turns away again.

“Waiting for friends?”

Zabuza glances up at the brown-haired man, lifting a brow. He’s drifted closer, but just by a step. Not a threat, but making himself obvious, Zabuza thinks.

“Nah. Just a long day traveling,” Zabuza says, tapping his fingers against the counter, and gives the man another look. Standing at the bar, and that smile, and the careful distance, the angle of his body and the light in his eyes—

 _Wow_ that’s a bad idea. Just—terrible. Maybe wrong, too—

“I'm Sukea,” the man says, and offers a hand. “I'm a traveler, too.”

Zabuza takes the hand, and at this point, the distinctive calluses from kunai are no surprise at all. Sukea likely knows that he’s a shinobi, too, but he’s not making any threatening moves, and that’s good enough for Zabuza.

“Zabuza,” he returns, and then tips his head at the chair beside him. “Been here long?”

“In this town? Only a few days.” Sukea’s voice is perfectly mild, unremarkable. Pleasant though, and Zabuza doesn’t mind it. “How about you?”

“Leaving soon,” Zabuza says, though he’s not about to tell anyone when. Or that he’s traveling with genin. “Local?”

Pale brown eyes crinkle in a disarming smile. “Only if you mean to Fire Country as a whole.”

Some bit of instinctive wariness prickles across the back of Zabuza’s neck. A shinobi in Fire Country likely means Konoha-trained, and that’s dangerous. The village as a whole is dangerous, and breeds dangerous nin just as infamous for their gruesome deaths as their power in life. The Hidden Leaf isn't kind to strong shinobi. Not since their Nidaime went off the rails and slaughtered her way through her own village in the name of eliminating conspirators.

The bartender sets Zabuza’s drinks in front of him with a murmured apology for the wait, and Zabuza picks up the first and downs it without hesitating. Looking like he’s tipsy might put his companion at ease, and that’s the easiest way to get information. It’s definitely cheap stuff, burning unpleasantly on the way down, and Zabuza grimaces but downs the second without hesitating. “Guess that means you know how to keep your head down,” he tells Sukea.

Sukea chuckles, lifting his own drink. “I'm not terrible at it,” he allows, and smiles. His eyes flicker over Zabuza, interest that’s more than just casual, polite but appreciative as he lets his gaze slide back to meet Zabuza’s. “Are you looking for work?”

“Headed for Stone Country,” Zabuza says, because that’s safe enough. With all the festivals there, and with the excess of rich families, a lot of foreign shinobi stay in the country to hire themselves out as bodyguards. Ishigakure isn't overly friendly to them, but it’s a good place for a mercenary shinobi to be.

“The mountains are supposed to be beautiful this time of year,” Sukea says, and that smile still hasn’t wavered. He looks at Zabuza’s last drink, then tilts his head and asks, “Would you object to me buying you another?”

Zabuza takes a second to consider him. Tall and probably lanky, plain but in a handsome way. A shinobi, in all likelihood, and that’s a mixed blessing; less fear where Zabuza’s scars and teeth are concerned, but more of a threat. Not that that’s entirely unappealing, in and of itself.

This is a mission, but it’s also a stop so they can rest, and Zabuza’s nerves have been wound tighter than koto strings since they crossed into Fire Country. What Sukea wants has been obvious from the start, and shinobi don’t tend to fake things like that unless they’re on a seduction mission. Since no one outside of Kiri knows Zabuza’s even here, he doesn’t think it’s a mission, and his instincts aren’t saying he’s about to be murdered.

Even if he is, Zabuza doesn’t object to Sukea trying, just so long as he gets to come first.

“Yeah,” he says, “I do object, actually,” and watches a flicker of resignation and disappointment cross Sukea's face. With a snort, Zabuza tosses back his last drink, balances his chakra to counteract the burn of the alcohol, and adds, “I’d rather go back to your room and fuck.”

Surprise widens Sukea's eyes, and he pauses, then chuckles, cheeks flushing. “You’re very forward,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like a complaint. Doesn’t look like one, either, with how he’s sliding to his feet, leaving a handful of ryō on the bar.

“Something wrong with that?” Zabuza asks. He sets enough money to cover the drink on one of his empty glasses, then reaches out.

“Not at all. Just an observation.” Sukea catches his hand and pulls him in a step, and Zabuza leans down to kiss the smile off his lips. It’s warm, a little awkward from unfamiliarity, but Sukea's mouth is soft and sweet and his tongue is clever, teasing Zabuza’s just enough to make his breath hitch before the man is pulling back.

“Let’s go,” Sukea says, and it’s gratifyingly breathless. “I think we have better places to be.”

“Much better,” Zabuza agrees, and lets his gaze drift down as Sukea leads him out the door. The coat covers nearly everything, but Zabuza’s willing to bet there's some muscle under there.

With a soft laugh, Sukea turns, catching Zabuza’s wrist as they emerge on the street. “Enjoying the view?” he asks, and his eyes are bright.

Zabuza pushes him up against the wall of the building, kisses the laughter from his mouth until he’s moaning in Zabuza’s arms. Breaks the kiss, and murmurs, “I’ll enjoy it more without the drapery in the way,” right against Sukea's skin.

It earns him a shiver, faint but there, and Sukea pulls him in, crushes their mouths together with a fervor Zabuza wouldn’t have expected of him. Then he’s moving again, tugging Zabuza down the street. The clouds are heavy overhead, the stones speckled here and there with the first few drops of rain, but it’s light and soft and still just the vaguest hint of drizzle when Sukea leads him into the town’s only inn. Thankfully, Zabuza’s genin aren’t loitering in the lobby, nor are they on the stairs as Sukea heads for the second floor.

The second room on the left opens with his key, and they tumble in, mouths already finding each other again. Zabuza tugs at the buttons on Sukea's coat, getting it undone so fast he probably strains at least one of the fastenings, and Sukea laughs but slips out of it, letting it drop to the floor. Thin, like Zabuza thought, but closer to wiry in his build, and strong enough to tug Zabuza around towards the bed.

Zabuza lets himself be pushed, resists just enough for it to be a challenge and laughs when Sukea makes a sound of frustration. He unhooks the belt holding Kubikiribōchō, then the neck of his cloak, and lets the sword slide to the floor still covered by the cloth. No need to hand out clues as to his identity, and the Executioner’s Blade is fairly well-known, even if it’s not the most famous of Kiri's Seven Swords.

Sukea doesn’t seem to notice, but then, he’s largely distracted by the button of Zabuza’s pants, the way Zabuza hisses into his mouth when long fingers cup his hardening cock. It makes Sukea hum, pleased, and he gentles the kiss until it’s teasing, light and lingering, just the barest edge of tongue. Zabuza groans in frustration, tries to haul him up and shove him back at the same time, and it ends with a startled sound and Sukea falling back onto the mattress, dragging Zabuza down with him by his grip on Zabuza’s shirt.

“Oh,” he says, and then “ _Oh_ ,” when Zabuza catches his mouth again. Even as his mouth is occupied, his hands are busy; he tugs Zabuza’s pants open, eases them and his underwear down with careful tugs, and then hums in satisfaction when he curls his fingers around skin. Zabuza gasps, hips bucking into the touch, and Sukea pushes up, rolls them over. He settles on top of Zabuza, stroking his cock, and asks with an edge of humor, “Straight to business?”

“You're the one with your hand down my pants,” Zabuza huffs, then tips his head back as Sukea's fingers tighten, trying to catch his breath. “ _Fuck_.”

“You could always return the favor,” Sukea murmurs against his lips, then slides his tongue into Zabuza’s mouth, drags his hand up in a tight stroke and muffles Zabuza’s shuddering cry.

It takes effort to make his limbs work, to keep his hands steady as the coiling heat washes through him, but Zabuza undoes Sukea's pants, shoves them down around his knees and then drags his shirt up and over his head. Sukea laughs, briefly tangled in the cloth, and lets go to wiggle his way free. Instantly, Zabuza takes advantage, flipping them over and straddling Sukea's knees.

There's a light, breathless sound, and fingers curl around his shoulders. “It seems like you know what you want,” Sukea says, but wide eyes are on Zabuza, unwavering, and he’s flushed and breathing hard.

“Going to let me take it?” Zabuza challenges, and Sukea laughs a little.

“If you’d like,” he answers. “Was there something in particular?”

Zabuza pauses, takes a moment breathing through the ache in his cock to think about it. “Yeah,” he says roughly. “Let me blow you.”

A shudder runs through Sukea's frame, and he spreads his legs without hesitation, lets Zabuza settle between them. “There’s lube,” he offers, and smiles when Zabuza raises a brow at him. “If you want it.”

“Hand it over,” Zabuza tells him, and strips off his own shirt as Sukea scrambles to pull the tube off the bedside table. In plain sight, along with a handful of tissues; clearly Sukea went out looking for sex tonight. It eases a bit more of the tension from Zabuza’s shoulders, and he kicks out of his pants, too, drags Sukea's off as the man turns. It gets him a laugh, and Zabuza presses up, kisses him even as he shoves him back into the pillows.

“Anything you don’t like?” he asks.

Sukea kisses him again, deeper and harder, and just for an instant the grip of his hands is something that could pass for shinobi strength, even though he’s shown no other overt sign so far. Zabuza almost pauses, almost asks, but before he can Sukea is falling back, legs spread, hair a wild mess around his red face. “No teeth?” he says, more question than anything, and shrugs one shoulder when Zabuza snorts. “I've never had a blow job I didn’t like.”

Zabuza laughs, curls his hands around muscled thighs. “Not picky? Good. Anything goes on my end, too. I like getting my throat fucked and my hair pulled.”

The sound that escapes Sukea is a bitten-off whimper, and the clutch of his hands in the sheets turns desperate. Zabuza smirks, popping open the cap of the lube and setting it to the side, still within reach. Immediately, Sukea spreads his legs, cock curving up towards his belly, thick and hard and flushed. Obliging, and Zabuza always enjoys that in a partner. He leans forward, pressing his mouth to the shaft, tracing his tongue up the prominent vein there. Sukea gasps, and it turns to a cry as Zabuza closes his mouth around the head, slowly, slowly sliding his lips down.

The shaft fills his mouth, slides across his tongue with the bitter-salt tang of precome, and he groans, practically able to feel it throbbing. Sukea's hips buck up, and it’s enough to shove his cock in nearly all the way to the hilt, sudden and sharp. Zabuza gags as it thrusts into his throat, swallows, keeps going, and there's a high, breathy cry, a tremble in the thighs he’s gripping. Zabuza holds himself there, nose pressed against shaved-smooth skin, and Sukea shudders, rolls his hips up carefully as his hands settle in Zabuza’s short hair and twist.

Zabuza closes his eyes, shivering a little at the growing ache in his throat, the stretch, the darts of pain as Sukea's fingers are less careful in his hair than they could be. Swallows, bracing himself on Sukea's legs and starting a slow rhythm, all the way up to lave the head and then back down to the base. Each retreat gets a sound, breathless and wanting, and Sukea is trembling faintly like he wants to just let go but won't let himself.

Restraint like that deserves a reward, or maybe Zabuza is just a greedy bastard. He slips one hand over the grab the lube without looking, messily squeezes out enough to fill his hand. Sukea has his head thrown back, eyes closed as he tries to follow the retreat of Zabuza’s mouth, then shudders as Zabuza takes him all the way in again. If Zabuza didn’t have his mouth quite so full, he’d smirk. Carefully, he slips his slicked hand down underneath himself, spreads his legs and shoves two fingers into himself, quick and dirty. Moans before he can help it, because the stretch is sharp but welcome, and Sukea gasps out a noise that might be his name, thrusts up into his mouth as the sound vibrates through him.

 _Fuck_ but Zabuza wants it. One night to fuck a stranger in a different country, and Zabuza shouldn’t be risking it but the thick cock in his mouth, the stretch of his fingers as he shoves lube into himself—it’s the perfect relief from the constant, fraught strain of the past month, the genin team and the mission and all of Kiri's changes. He gives himself over to it, lets Sukea drag his head up by the hair and then thrust into his throat, and it’s on the edge of too much but he groans, sucks as he’s pulled up again, and this time he keeps going, pulls free of Sukea's hands and pulls his fingers out of himself.

There's an aborted cry, denial and shock, as Zabuza falls forward, getting his legs over Sukea's hips. Brown eyes fly open just in time for Zabuza to catch his mouth in a deep, dirty kiss, wet and messy as Zabuza pushes against him, traps narrow hips between his thighs and lets Sukea's hard cock slide up the crack of his ass. Gets a hand on it, pressing the shaft to his hole, and then rocks back with a hard push and hisses as the head slides in, thick and not quite slick enough. Sukea yelps, scrambling to grab something as his back arches, and his hands clamp onto Zabuza’s hips like he’s going to leave bruises.

Zabuza doesn’t have the ability to care right now. The drag of that cock sliding in and in is enough to steal his breath and all higher brain function, an _ache_ right at the center of him, and he groans, feeling his muscles clamp down involuntarily. It’s too much, makes him freeze halfway down with Sukea's fingers digging marks into his skin, and he braces himself on Sukea's chest and tries to breathe.

“Oh,” Sukea says, sounding winded, and he shudders, swallows. “I thought—the other way—”

Summoning up words feels practically impossible right now. Zabuza has to dredge them up past the tightness in his throat, the burn of barely-prepared muscle stretched too far, the coiled heat the feels like it’s going to swallow him whole. “Objections?” he asks hoarsely, and the painful clench of muscle slowly eases enough for him to slide the rest of the way down Sukea's cock.

“None,” Sukea breathes, eyes fluttering for a moment before he opens them again. There's a flicker in his face, something Zabuza can't quite catch, but it’s sharper and—dark. There and gone in an instant, and then Zabuza can't think on it at all because Sukea slides his feet up, knees bending, the angle changing. With a groan Zabuza sinks into the cradle of his hips, closes his eyes against the sparks of pleasure that crawl up his spine as Sukea's cock presses in that one inch further.

“Never had someone ride your dick badly either?” he laughs, then carefully, slowly pushes up, a whine catching in his throat as Sukea's cock resists the bend, solid and _heavy_ inside of him. His fall back against Sukea's knees isn't quite as graceful as it could be, but he locks his knees against lean ribs and braces himself on Sukea's legs, then lifts himself up. The drag of the cock leaving him is practically painful, redoubles the ache of desire that’s curling through his gut, and he lets himself drop again, feels Sukea drag him down to split him open with a hard thrust up. It jars a cry from Zabuza’s throat, fractures white lightning behind his eyes, and he throws his head back, rocks up and then down again, feeling every inch of the invasion.

“If I— _ah_!—if I have it’s certainly not you,” Sukea gets out, and his hands tighten. There's that flicker again, something more intent and with sharper edges right behind the pleasant face, but he thrusts up, breaks the thought before Zabuza can give it more than a second of attention, and Zabuza hisses, pushes down. Uses Sukea's cock like his favorite toy, clenching around it, taking it deep and rocking his hips in a tight circle just to feel the stretch, then pulling up to the head and sliding all the way back down. Each stroke is another ounce of heat, another breath he can't quite catch, a sound that fractures into the hot air. Sukea is panting, expression heavy-lidded and lazy as he watches, and Zabuza’s more than willing to make a show of it. He lets himself be loud, puts his whole body into each thrust, rides the rhythm of Sukea's hips and cries out when a particularly deep thrust sets every nerve alight.

“Are you going to come? Just from a cock in you?” Sukea asks, light and almost teasing. Slides one hand around, tracing his fingers over Zabuza’s thigh, and then when Zabuza bottoms out he presses his fingers to the point where they’re connected, rubbing around the stretched rim of Zabuza’s hole. Zabuza gasps, jerks, and Sukea makes a low, pleased sound, tightens his grip on Zabuza’s hipbone. Then they’re rolling, and Zabuza shouts as his back hits the bed, the cock in him jarred even deeper, light exploding behind his eyes. He arches into Sukea's body with a cry that’s instantly muffled by Sukea's mouth, and Sukea thrusts into him hard, fingers digging into the skin under Zabuza’s balls.

It drags a wail from Zabuza’s throat, makes him jerk and twitch and _come_ , so hard and sudden it’s almost a surprise. Sukea rides him through it, keeps thrusting with short, desperate strokes, but his hand _stays_. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t let go, and Zabuza feels a second wave crash through him, pleasure with _teeth_. Sukea teases his mouth, tongue sliding deep to chase Zabuza’s whimpers as his body shakes, and then all at once he lets go, pulls out. The sudden emptiness hurts almost as much as the oversensitivity, and Zabuza grabs for him, gasps out something that might be a plea.

“Shh,” Sukea soothes against his lips, stroking his hair. There's a light in his eyes, something hungry, and he asks, “Can I come on your face?”

Zabuza shudders, groans. “Or—down my throat,” he manages.

Sukea's breath hitches, and without pause he kisses Zabuza hard, then slides up his body to straddle his chest as Zabuza pulls him in with a desperate grip on his thighs. A hand braces him against the wall, and he gets the other on his slick cock, presses the head to Zabuza’s lips. Zabuza moans, opens for it, relaxes his throat and lets Sukea slide in right to the hilt. Sucks hard, swallows around the shaft and curls his tongue around it, too fucked-out and sloppy to manage much. Sukea doesn’t seem to mind, staring at him as his breath rasps out. His fingers frame Zabuza’s jaw, thumb pressing against the edge of his lips where they’re stretched wide, and he rocks his hips, then stops.

“Can I—” he starts, breaks on a groan, and Zabuza can't answer but he hauls Sukea in further, gets his hands under his ass and urges him on. It’s all the hint Sukea needs; he makes a ragged, desperate sound and starts to thrust, fucking Zabuza’s mouth the way he just fucked his ass. Zabuza’s throat aches with the force of it—he’s hardly going to be able to talk tomorrow, but Sukea's moans are hitching and his body is tensing and Zabuza doesn’t give a flying fuck. He moans, swallows as much as he can as Sukea bottoms out, and it’s wet and messy and he can barely manage that much, but there's a cut-off cry from above him and Sukea grabs his hair, shoves in as deep as he can possibly go.

Zabuza chokes, sucks, feels Sukea’s cock twitch in his throat, then tastes bitter come as Sukea pulls back. It’s enough warning to close his eyes, and he groans as it splashes his face, his lips, his cheek. Sukea strokes himself through the last of his orgasm, letting the drops of come fall onto Zabuza’s mouth as he stares, hot and intent. Zabuza lets him look, licks his lips and tries not to shiver at the taste, at the look in Sukea's eyes. Not the mild-mannered man he met at the bar, but—better.

“Fuck,” Sukea says, breathless, then slides off of Zabuza. He leans down, kisses him hard and deep and fierce, an edge of strangely sharp teeth behind it, and then is gone just as suddenly, moving off the bed and leaning down to grab his pants. Without another word he turns, crossing the room and disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Zabuza closes his eyes, taking a second to catch his breath as he slides down from the high. Not the best way for the night to end, but—one-night-stands are always awkward. Sighing, he sits up carefully, managing not to wince at the ache in his ass. Not nearly enough prep, but Zabuza’s a ninja; it’s not going to hinder him.

He does take a bit of spiteful pleasure in wiping the come off his face with Sukea's shirt before he collects his clothes and leaves, though.

 

 

“Are you all right, Zabuza-sensei?” Haku asks delicately.

“You look _terrible_ ,” is Suigetsu’s far less tactful input. Kimimaro sighs and presses a hand over his face.

“Just start walking,” Zabuza tells them, not about to let a couple of brats ruin the less-than-terrible morning. He had hot coffee, actually got warm food, took a shower. There's a low-level ache inside of him, just enough to remind him it’s there if he moves too quickly, and that’s equally enjoyable. Zabuza’s always liked sex, regardless of whether it’s one night or something more, and last night was _good_ sex.

“You sound like you're getting a cold,” Haku says, almost suspiciously. “Zabuza-sensei, I can—”

Suigetsu scoffs. “Ass-kisser,” he mutters, and Haku's brown eyes go flinty. He lifts a hand—

“Enough,” Zabuza says, stepping in between them to catch Haku's fingers before he can shape a sign. He isn't sure how it happened that he got the three most ridiculously intense and intensely ridiculous genin all on one team, but it’s a _headache_.

No, wait, he does know. He knows _precisely_. It’s because Mei is a fucking hag, and this is all of the torture she’s been saving up for Zabuza the past few years. He hates her. Someday he’s going to overthrow her and steal the hat, and then he’ll give _her_ all the worst genin and see how she likes it.

Haku gives him an innocent smile. “I looked up Fire Country’s native herbs before we left, Zabuza-sensei,” he says, as if he wasn’t about to turn his teammate into an ice sculpture. “Would you like me to find something that’s good for sore throats?”

“I'm not getting sick,” Zabuza tells him, faintly cranky. “Did you wreck any shit that I’ll have to pay off before we leave?”

Not promisingly, Suigetsu laughs. “ _We_ didn’t,” he says smugly, and a jerk of his thumb indicates Kimimaro. “But Haku picked up a tagalong at the ramen place, and he was a fucking _menace_.”

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of Zabuza’s stomach, telling him that they probably won't be welcome in this town on their way back. “Haku?” he asks.

“His name was Naruto,” Haku informs Suigetsu, like that’s any sort of answer at all. Looking back at Zabuza, he smiles. “He taught me how to set a trap.”

Zabuza very consciously doesn’t ask who exactly they trapped. He doesn’t want to know. With his luck, it was the mayor. “Just—go,” he says, and swears to himself that he’s going to find every last one of Mei's bridal magazines and set them on fire.

“Does this mean we have to camp the whole way back?” Kimimaro asks, delicately dismayed, because he’s always the quickest to catch on. Suigetsu’s head whips around, and he suddenly looks outraged.

“You're lucky I don’t make you sleep in _ant nests_ for the rest of the trip,” Zabuza tells them. “ _Go._ ”

They go, but absolutely none of them look happy about it. Even Haku is looking mulishly unrepentant, and Zabuza closes his eyes, rubs the bridge of his nose, and prays to whatever god looks after mass murderers for patience.

 

 

The dawn birdsong fades out abruptly several miles beyond the town.

Released tension aside, Zabuza’s not so well-fucked he misses something as obvious as that. Lifting his head as the silence registers, he narrows his eyes, scans the edges of the road with renewed paranoia. Always alert, Kimimaro catches the movement, and he looks up as well, though he doesn’t break off his quiet conversation with Suigetsu.

Zabuza flashes him a glance, then nods, and Kimimaro smiles faintly, ducks his head again. Takes half a step nearer to Suigetsu, slows a little so Haku, bringing up the rear, is a bit closer. The bend of the road up ahead is the most obvious place for an ambush, but Zabuza lets his gaze slide past the tall trees, pretends he’s unfamiliar with Konoha shinobi’s usual tactics for taking people by surprise.

 _Sloppy_ , he thinks, and can't tell if it's directed at himself or whoever is lying in wait. The sound of the birds might pass unnoticed to someone familiar with them, but Kiri has seabirds, very few songbirds. Zabuza notices the absence because he notices the sound to begin with, where someone else might not. But then, Zabuza also probably should have picked a different road, or taken them through the forest; this is the only road out of town, and a clear choice for anyone looking to jump a few travelers.

“Zabuza-sensei?” Haku asks, pitched so it will carry without seeming like it’s deliberate. “Who is the Hokage right now? I asked Ameyuri, but she said it changes so often I shouldn’t worry about it.”

That sounds like an Ameyuri kind of answer, Zabuza thinks, irritated. He pretends to give Haku his full attention, though he keeps most of it on the curve ahead and knows Haku is doing the same. “Shimura Danzō, last I heard,” he says. “There were three coups within about five years, right on the heels of the Second War. Their Nidaime massacred her way through most of the Senju Clan, but one of the Uchiha took exception to Mito imprisoning his teacher. Kagami and one of his teammates killed her.”

“I remember that!” Suigetsu chimes in, bounding up beside them, jostling his sword loose in its sheath. His grin is all teeth and anticipation. “From the Academy. That Senju guy disappeared and showed up dead and tortured and the Uchiha fucking lost it.” He sounds entirely gleeful, not that Zabuza can blame him for it, given how the history is taught. The teachers at the Academy are old enough to remember Senju Tobirama, and the Hōzuki _definitely_ do, given their clan technique and Tobirama’s use of it against them in battle. “He started going after his own clan, an’ one of the others threw in with the Uchiha, and then his friend threw him off a cliff and took the Hokage's seat.”

“Sarutobi Hiruzen.” Zabuza lets his gaze flicker to the approaching trees, then sweeps a look past them, looking for any sign of movement. Debates, for a moment, the benefits of summoning a heavy mist, but it’s a chakra intensive technique and he doesn’t want to waste it right off the bat. “Yeah, he got a couple of years in the seat before there was another coup. Hatake Sakumo took over when the dust settled, since the other candidates were dead, but he was poisoned. And then—”

“Namikaze Minato,” Kimimaro murmurs, and coughs a little. “That makes…seven?”

“Only village that’s on their eighth Kage already,” Zabuza says dryly. “All the rest are still working through the Yondaime.” There's a heaviness in the air, something nearly malevolent, but it’s not steady, keeps flickering in and out until Zabuza almost thinks it’s his imagination. He isn't willing to write it off just yet, though. “Namikaze got his ass handed to him a few years ago. One of Kagami's old teammates decided he didn’t want to be left out and rounded up an army. That was Shimura. Still in power, as far as I know. Not a lot of news gets out of Konoha, though.”

The trees are directly ahead of them now, swaying lightly in the morning breeze, and Zabuza tenses faintly, ready to reach for a weapon—

“Not a lot of anything gets out of Konoha, really,” someone says, right behind Zabuza’s left shoulder, and shock bolts through him. In an instant he’s whirling, Kubikiribōchō flashing up and out, but the stranger leaps up and over, flipping lightly and landing in the center of the road. Tall and lanky, with a shock of silver hair that looks like the end result of a misplaced Raiton, one eye covered by a slanted hitai-ate. His uniform is ragged, missing the flak jacket most shinobi wear, but it’s still unmistakably a Konoha uniform, and there's a leaf on his headband, unscored. Zabuza’s eyes widen, and the man must catch it, because his visible eye crinkles in a wicked smile and he lifts a hand, wiggling his fingers.

“Yo,” he says cheerfully. “You might want to be careful wandering down this road. You never know what might jump out of the bushes at you. Maybe _grab your genin_.”

Panic surges, abrupt and gutting. Zabuza doesn’t even have time to turn, though; that malicious chakra hits all at once, burns like a bonfire, resolves. A small figure bursts out of the trees Zabuza was watching, slams into Haku in a blur of gold and orange. Haku cries out but they’re already gone, and there’s only a fading flicker of red-and-black chakra left.

“Haku!” Zabuza snarls, and lunges with Kubikiribōchō leading. A kunai slams into the blade, though, knocks it aside, and the man plants himself in the center of Zabuza’s path, braced and ready.

A bite of cold wind curls over the road, and the sky darkens. “Haku!” Suigetsu shouts, and without pause he plunges into the trees, following the blur’s path with Kimimaro right behind him.

Zabuza wants to go after them. _Needs_ to. They’re his team, his responsibility. Kiri's future all wrapped up in three madcap, maddening children. But he can't, because the man blocks every one of Zabuza’s strikes, slides around his sword and keeps him turning, moving, unable to disengage. Slanted hitai-ate, silver hair, and Zabuza’s looked over the Bingo Book enough times to know exactly who he’s fighting. Not that Konoha's most famous missing-nin is easy to mistake for anyone else.

“Friend-Killer Kakashi, wasn’t it?” he challenges. “Get the _fuck_ out of my way.”

“I don’t really like that name,” Kakashi says mildly, though his expression hardens faintly. “If you surrender right now, your genin won't be hurt.”

“Fucking _bastard_!” Zabuza snarls, and his pulse is too loud, too fast in his ears as he throws himself forward. Kakashi ducks under Kubikiribōchō’s blade, rises with his kunai leading to knock it to the side and then slash outward. Easy enough for Zabuza to take the blow, letting it open a line down his ribs, and keep going, slamming a knee into Kakashi’s side and hurling him back. As Kakashi staggers, Zabuza flips Kubikiribōchō upright, slashes across—

Gets a burst of smoke and a log that flies away, even as a hand curls over his hip.

“Well,” Kakashi says in his ear, obscenely cheerful. “ _That_ didn’t work, did it?”

The hand on his ass _squeezes_ , and Zabuza flips a kunai over his shoulder, shatters the clone with a blade through its eye, and then slams his sword down to block a shuriken that comes flying at his throat. Under his feet the earth erupts, hands grabbing for his ankles, but Zabuza uses Kubikiribōchō as leverage, flips up to land on the hilt and brings his hands up. There are clouds above, water on the ground, and it’s not Kiri's plethora of rivers and coastlines but it’s enough. A dragon surges out of the surrounding forest, jaws gaping, aiming right for Kakashi’s head. Zabuza gets half a second of _immense_ satisfaction as one grey eye goes wide, but an instant later Kakashi is throwing himself back, slamming one hand down, and a Doton barrier leaps up to meet the dragon’s headlong rush.

Even as the edges of the explosion wash over him, Zabuza brings his hand up, shapes a Seal of Confrontation. Breathes out, heavy with chakra and intent, and the familiar whirl of rising mist covers the ground, floods the road like a cloud rising from the earth. It’s a practiced thing for Zabuza to let himself fade into it, perfectly silent as he drops down, pulls Kubikiribōchō up and slings it over his back again.

“You must work out. Buns of steel,” a voice says, somewhere in the mist, but Zabuza isn't stupid enough to think it’s actually Kakashi. A clone, probably, and he doesn’t have enough water around to waste it on a Suiton clone or he’d send it after the sound. Gritting his teeth, Zabuza curses the arid dryness of the borderlands, focuses on evening out the mist, letting his chakra disperse across the space. All he needs is an opening, a _second_ where Kakashi can't track him, can't intercept him, and he’ll go after Haku. Suigetsu and Kimimaro can handle themselves, but they're Zabuza’s responsibility, his team.

And then Suigetsu’s chakra disappears like a candleflame being snuffed out.

Zabuza jerks, turns. Just for an instant it’s as if the world has dropped out from under his feet, gone sharp-edged and burning. His breath tangles in his throat, and Suigetsu has the Hydrification Technique but he’s still the only one on the team without a kekkei genkai, the only who can't summon snowstorms when he’s angry or grow bones from the earth like macabre flowers. Suigetsu is the normal one, the one like Zabuza was once, with nothing but a low caste family behind him and a dream of the Seven Swordsmen in front of him. If Zabuza can't even keep him alive—

A figure blocks his path as he lunges, meets Kubikiribōchō’s blade with a kunai that flickers with chakra. Kakashi shoves him back, steps through the mist, and his hitai-ate is pushed straight, the eye beneath not grey but crimson and black. Zabuza breathes out fury and desperation, not letting himself meet the pinwheel of Konoha's most infamous dojutsu even as he readies himself for the next attack.

“Get _out of my way_ ,” he growls.

“I told you,” Kakashi says lightly, flipping his kunai around his fingers and catching it as drops into a ready crouch, blade braced across his body. “If you surrender right now, your genin won't be harmed. Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Zabuza grinds his teeth, vividly aware of where the sense of Suigetsu’s chakra _should_ be. Wonders, somewhere in the back of his head, how the fuck he’s going to be able to look Mangetsu in the eye and tell him that Zabuza let his little brother get killed under his protection. Mangetsu is—fierce. Definitely a Swordsman, there's no doubt there. But he’s kind, too, and if Zabuza has to tell him—

“ _Why_ ,” he demands. “Why the fuck is a missing-nin targeting a _Kiri team_? We’ve stayed the hell out of everything!”

Kakashi hums, idly amused, but his eyes are hard. “You have,” he agrees. “Kiri had its own problems. But it fixed those problems with you, didn’t it, Zabuza? A hundred children dead in a single morning. Impressive.”

Zabuza tips his chin up, faces that stare squarely. He knows precisely what he did, his biggest possible _fuck you_ to the Sandaime Mizukage and the blood matches he and his cronies liked to bet on. Liked to treat as a day of entertainment, a fun outing as they watched the graduating class fight to the death. Zabuza just carried the whole thing to its inevitable conclusion. He’s never wasted time regretting it, because he knows precisely what he is. A monster will never _not_ be a monster, after all.

“And you're looking to fix Konoha's problems with more dead kids?” he demands, and doesn’t let himself think of Kimimaro, Suigetsu, and Haku sprawled out like the bodies in that arena. Doesn’t let himself think of the silence, in the aftermath, and the way the blood felt on his hands. “I hate to break it to you, Hatake, but they have to be from your own village, not mine!”

Kakashi takes a step closer, one to the side. Circles him, slow and deliberate, but Zabuza doesn’t let himself turn to follow the man, even though it makes his shoulder blades itch with the expectation of a knife between them. “There are already enough dead in Konoha,” he says quietly.

“At lot of them at your hand,” Zabuza says, scoffs, because Friend-Killer Kakashi slaughtered his way through the ranks of Konoha's jounin, aiming to kill Danzō, but failed. Was put to death, but escaped, went right for his former genin teammates and, when they were dead, disappeared as a missing-nin.

“Maa, maa, those were necessary,” Kakashi protests, light as a joke. He takes one step closer and Zabuza can't stay still anymore, twists around and lashes out, but instantly Kakashi is inside his guard, ducking right underneath Kubikiribōchō and slamming his kunai into the meat of Zabuza’s shoulder. Zabuza shouts before he can help it, hand spasming, and the sword goes flying to slam into a tree. He staggers, turns, and the water from his jutsu before leaps up, whirls, slams down—

Lightning blazes, sparking with a sound like a thousand birds chirping, just as Kimimaro’s chakra vanishes.

“Haku!” Zabuza shouts. “Kimimaro!” But there's no answer, no sound from within the forest. Just silence, emptiness, and electricity makes Zabuza’s skin crawl. He dodges to the side, but Kakashi meets him, hand wreathed in lightning, and even a glancing touch from it makes Zabuza yelp, forces him back with his muscles spasming.

“Surrender,” Kakashi says, unyielding.

“ _Why_?” Zabuza bellows at him. “Fucking _bastard_ , get the fuck out of—”

Snow touches his cheek, cold and light. Zabuza’s breath knots in his throat. That’s Haku's snow, unmistakably. Haku in mourning, or Haku dying, and either way Zabuza is just _standing here_ —

He lets out a roar of fury, forces his muscles to work. Lunges, drawing a kunai, and twists around the edges of Kakashi’s jutsu to come up with the blade leading, slashing like he’s trying to gut Kakashi. Kakashi sidesteps, whirls, leaps, and he’s just a little too quick, a little too smooth, not Kiri's blunt head-on tactics at all. Zabuza has spent time outside of Water Country, but most of those assassinations were of civilians, noblemen, shinobi he could take unawares in the mist and kill easily. He always loves a fight, and in other circumstances this would be a good one, but—

Two genin dead, one remaining, and if Zabuza can't at least get to Haku there’s no use to being a shinobi at all.

Unfamiliar chakra blazes, dragon-fire-bright, and Haku's icy determination rises to meet it, a blizzard given form and focus. Zabuza snarls, forces himself faster, sharper, whirls to meet Kakashi’s thrust and kicks him in the knee. Follows as he retreats, flipping a kunai at his throat, and in the moment Kakashi goes to dodge he lunges for his sword, wrenching it free of the trunk it’s imbedded in. Kakashi slides beneath it, comes up with an elbow leading, but Zabuza’s seen this trick already and lets the blade drop, its own weight sending it crashing down—

The clone vanishes with a pop, and Zabuza curses, turns. Breathes out, thickening the mist, and closes his eyes. All he needs is a way out, a quick path to Haku. One second of an opening, that’s _it_.

“Got you,” Kakashi says, and a dog bursts out of the ground, sinking its teeth into Zabuza’s arm. Another catches his shirt, then his other arm, the Kubikiribōchō’s hilt, his claves. He snarls, jerks but can't throw them off, and they drag him down to his knees, the biggest one braced against his shoulders in exactly the place to rip his throat out if he moves.

Kakashi steps out of the mist, tucking his kunai away. As Zabuza glares at him, he pulls his hitai-ate down, then asks, “Do you need to have your chakra sealed, or will you surrender?”

Zabuza bares his teeth, all the threat he has to offer right now. “I'm going to _kill you_ ,” he tells Kakashi.

A grey eye crinkles in a smile, but there's no humor behind it. “Even after that wonderful night we shared?” Kakashi asks lightly. “How rude.”

Shock shatters through Zabuza, makes his breath catch, his eyes widen. He jerks, but the dogs are still holding him too tightly for him to move. Sukea. Of fucking _course_. “You fucking _seduced_ me?” he demands.

“No,” Kakashi says without hesitation, and meets his eyes squarely. “I didn’t realize who you were until I saw you in the lobby the next morning.”

Truth, Zabuza thinks, even though he doesn’t want to. Even though it doesn’t do anything but push the rage higher. No wonder the dogs could find him in the mist. Even after he showered, he probably _reeks_ of Kakashi. “Fuck,” he hisses, self-directed, and swallows. Haku is still fighting, he can feel it, but—

Shinobi are tools, and they always have been, but this is the first generation who won't be raised that way. This is the first generation that doesn’t _have_ to be. Zabuza never wanted this team, but fuck it, it’s _his_ team, and he’s not going to fucking let them all die if he can stop it no matter the consequences.

“I surrender,” he says, and the words are bitter poison in his mouth. If he was going to surrender in the end regardless, he should have done it while Suigetsu and Kimimaro were still alive. Should have swallowed his fucking pride and just—

A hand touches his cheek, and Kakashi crouches down in front of him. Swipes a thumb beneath his eye, and says, “I hadn’t thought the Demon of the Hidden Mist could cry.”

Zabuza lunges, snaps his teeth at Kakashi’s throat in an attempt to tear it out, but the dogs drag him back, snarl and pin him and he _can't move_. Can't fight, can't help—

“Naruto!” Kakashi calls, pitching his voice to carry, and he hasn’t moved at all. “It’s over. He surrendered.”

Instantly, the bonfire chakra disappears, dragged down to more human levels. There's a familiar cry from the forest, and a moment later snow whirls. Haku bursts out of the trees, staggering, bloody, with wide eyes and fear on his face, and he takes one look at Zabuza and then turns, a mirror of ice condensing out of the air.

“No,” Zabuza says, and it aches in his throat. “Haku, stop.”

Haku pulls up short, dismay flickering across his face. “But Zabuza-sensei!” he protests.

“No,” Zabuza tells him, and closes his eyes. “Fuck. No. I surrendered. Leave it.”

Kakashi hums, reaches out. Takes Zabuza’s weapons pouch, then whistles, and Zabuza hisses as the dogs let go, drag their teeth free and retreat. Blood drips down his arms, and in an instant Haku is there, pulling out bandages and salves as he practically tucks himself against Zabuza’s side.

The bushes rustle, and when Zabuza glances up there's a boy emerging from the trees, small and blond and smiling. He’s probably not even ten, expression bright, a streak of blood on one cheek, and he bounces up to Kakashi’s side and proudly offers him a pair of large glass marbles.

“Mom’s traps worked!” he says excitedly. “I got them both, Kakashi-sensei!”

“Thank you, Naruto.” Kakashi reaches out, lightly ruffling Naruto's hair, then meets Zabuza’s eyes. “Your word?” he asks.

Zabuza growls at him. “I told you I surrendered,” he snaps. “What fucking more do you want from me, asshole?”

“Good enough,” Kakashi says cheerfully, then tosses the marbles up. He forms a ram seal, and there's a burst of smoke, a flare of light.

Twin cries sound, catapulting Zabuza’s heart right into his mouth, and he’s moving before he can even think of it, grabbing Kimimaro and Suigetsu as they stagger upright. Drags them back with him, putting them and Haku right within reach, and says, faintly ragged, “You little _fuckers_.”

“My _sword_!” Suigetsu protests, struggling up, but Zabuza pins him in place before he can lunge for the grinning Naruto, who waves cheekily. “You took my _sword_!”

“I _borrowed_ it!” Naruto tells him. “It wouldn’t fit in the trap with you, but it’s fine!”

“It fell in a _mud puddle_ ,” Suigetsu wails. “I'm going to be cleaning that thing _forever_!”

“Damn it,” Zabuza breathes, and loops his arms around all three genin, dragging them into a tight hug. Throttling them for making him worry, mostly, but—it’s probably at least partly a hug. They’re alive. That’s…pretty fucking fantastic.

“Zabuza-sensei, you're bleeding on me,” Haku complains.

“Like a stuck pig,” is Suigetsu’s verdict.

“It’s the Naruto from the village,” Kimimaro tells him, half-muffled. “He caught us in a trap.”

Zabuza breathes out. “Yeah,” he says gruffly, “I got that.”

“I told you,” Kakashi says, and when Zabuza levels a glare at him he just smiles. “If you surrendered your genin wouldn’t be harmed.”

“Bastard,” Zabuza tells him, but the relief is enough to take most of the bite out it. he lets go of his genin to Suigetsu’s clear relief, and doesn’t protest when Haku immediately drags his left arm out to start bandaging the dog bites. “Why the fuck did you want us to begin with?”

“For ransom!” Naruto chimes in. “Mom’s gonna overthrow the Hokage and get Dad out of jail, an’ she needs your scary lady to give her weapons!”

“Mom,” Zabuza repeats, unimpressed, and looks at Kakashi for translation.

Obligingly, Kakashi offers, “Uzumaki Kushina, currently in Konoha and gathering her forces.”

It only takes a second to make the connection. A missing-nin would be in the perfect position to make connections and feed news and resources back to a coup while staying out of sight. Zabuza looks at Kakashi, at the hitai-ate without a single mark on it, and wonders how the fuck people miss the fact that he doesn’t consider himself a missing-nin at all.

“Mei's going to fucking _murder_ you,” he tells Kakashi.

“Hopefully only after she’s agreed to give our rebellion weapons,” Kakashi says cheerfully, and rises to his feet, offering Zabuza a hand up.

Zabuza groans, but gently shakes Haku off as soon as he’s tied the bandage he’s working on. He takes the offered hand, letting Kakashi haul him to his feet, and staggers faintly from blood loss. Pressing a hand to his head, he grimaces at the faint spin to the world, then says, “At lest say we can go back to the damned town while we play hostage. I've had enough of camping.”

“Sure,” Kakashi agrees easily. “Naruto, why don’t you go clean up and help Zabuza’s team find their weapons?”

Naruto pulls a face. “Aww,” he complains. “But it’d be funny to leave all the other traps there.”

Kakashi doesn’t answer, just gives him a look, and with a pout Naruto subsides. “Fine,” he huffs, and then grabs Suigetsu’s arm. “Come on, I can find your sword.”

“You'd better help me clean it, too!” Suigetsu snaps, but with one glance back at Zabuza he lets himself be dragged away by the younger boy.

“Go on,” Zabuza tells Haku and Kimimaro when they look at him. “Stick together.”

Kimimaro nods, then leads the way after his teammate, letting Haku bring up the rear. It doesn’t stop Haku from glancing back at Zabuza too, but at least he goes.

Apparently able to see the way blood loss is making Zabuza’s head spin, Kakashi slides an arm around his waist, helping to balance him on his feet. “I have a very nice room you can share,” he offers lightly, and when Zabuza glares at him he blinks innocently.

“That you’ll bolt out of the second you come?” Zabuza demands. “Real classy.”

With a quiet hum, Kakashi steers his steps towards where Kubikiribōchō is lying, then picks it up and slings it over his own back. “In my defense, I thought I had given a little too much away,” he says, and his fingers tighten on Zabuza’s hip. “Fucking you wasn’t exactly good for maintaining my clever disguise.”

Zabuza scoffs, but it’s easy enough to remember the flashes of something else that showed under Sukea's placid front. The little bits of darkness, the intensity that Zabuza liked so much better, and he looks away. There's no way to deny that they're hostages, even if Kakashi is being polite about it. Zabuza gave in, but if he tried to escape, Kakashi would stop him.

Mei is going to kill Kakashi, but as soon as she’s done with him she’s going to torch Zabuza, too, for getting himself in this position to begin with.

“If it helps,” Kakashi says quietly, “this isn't just about a new Hokage. Kushina and Rin found out what made Lady Mito go mad in the first place, and it’s a threat to all of the Hidden Villages.”

“ _Made_ her?” Zabuza repeats, because Uzumaki Mito's descent from beloved Nidaime to tyrant is a tory that everyone knows and fears.

Kakashi tips his head in confirmation. “Apparently,” he says, almost light enough to be a joke, “Uchiha Madara came back, and having a jinchuuriki as Hokage was too much of an opening for him to pass up. He controlled her.”

The Sharingan is fucking _terrifying_ , and that’s just another reason why. Zabuza winces, the registers what else Kakashi said and gives him a sharp look. “Rin, as in _Nohara_ Rin? The Sanbi’s jinchuuriki? And—” Uzumaki Naruto, who calls the Red-Hot Habanero _mom_ , which means—

“Rin and Obito are in Ame,” Kakashi says, like he isn't giving away everything his rebellion has, and to a _prisoner_. “We thought it would be best to get all the jinchuuriki out of Konoha until we can start rebuilding. Yahiko is helping us. The Yondaime in Suna, too.”

“Did you kidnap one of her genin teams, too?” Zabuza demands, and if it’s a little testy he thinks he can be forgiven. Apparently the name _Friend-Killer_ is wrong in Nohara Rin and Uchiha Obito’s cases, and because of that Zabuza’s willing to bet it’s wrong in all the others, too. Makes for a more appealing bounty, though, which is likely why Danzō stuck him with it in the Bingo Book.

Kakashi’s eye crinkles in a true smile. “Karura was easily convinced when she met Naruto,” he says, and his gaze flickers up to study Zabuza’s face for a long moment. “We need to depose Danzō,” he says quietly. “He wants a war with the other countries, and between his plans and Madara's…”

The world barely survived the Second World War. It doesn’t need a third. Zabuza nods tightly, and—he’ll have to help convince Mei. Kiri only has one jinchuuriki, but Utakata is one of Mei's closest advisors. If he was controlled, or taken over, if he was forced to betray her—

Kiri ended its days as the Bloody Mist when Mei, all of sixteen, burned the Sandaime’s house to the ground and fought him to the death, the rest of the jounin behind her. That was enough to give them a fresh start, with Mei at the reins and a shared determination to do better.

If Konoha can have that, of Konoha has even a _chance_ at that, it’s worth fighting for. The world could use a little more stability, especially from the largest Hidden Village.

“Right,” Zabuza says determinedly. “Let’s get back to the damned town and I’ll write Mei a fucking letter. Then you’re going to give me the best fucking sex of my life to make up for what an utter pain in the ass you are.”

There's a moment of startled silence, and then Kakashi laughs. “Literally?” he teases, and the hand on Zabuza’s hip slides back to cup his ass again.

“Shithead,” Zabuza tells him. “ _Yeah_ , literally. I got barely two fingers in my ass and then had to sit on your dick before you came like a virgin in a whorehouse.”

Kakashi is beaming, bright and amused. “You’re blaming _me_?” he asks, and it’s almost delighted.

“Bastard,” Zabuza growls, yanks his mask down, and drags him up into a kiss that’s all teeth. None of Sukea's carefulness; this is Kakashi, fully and without hesitation, kissing back with sharp teeth to match Zabuza’s and just as much ferocity.

Kakashi is still giggling a little when they separate. He tugs the cloth back up over his face, pulls Zabuza’s arm over his shoulder when Zabuza wavers, and says, “Sex as payback? I think I can manage that.”

“I fucking hope so,” Zabuza retorts, but right over top of the words there's a shout, a howl, a loud splash. Kimimaro starts laughing, then coughing, and a cold wind sweeps past them, bringing an arctic chill with it.

“Fuck,” Zabuza mutters, pressing his knuckles against his eye. Kakashi, he notices, doesn’t look all that much more enthusiastic. “What are the chances you can stick them back in those marbles?”

“Slim,” Kakashi says, faintly regretful. “Naruto is the one Kushina taught fuinjutsu, not me.”

Fantastic. Time to go see what they're fighting about now, then. Zabuza sighs in resignation, and Kakashi holds him upright as they stagger into the trees.

Mei is absolutely going to kill him. Or laugh at him. Right now, Zabuza isn't entirely sure which is worse.


End file.
